


Between the One Eighty-Three

by wonshushushu



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Complete, Emotional Hurt, Established Relationship, Jeonghan really loves Seungcheol, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Minor Violence (just descriptions), One Shot, Swearing, Yoon Jeonghan-centric, un-edited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 17:33:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20679227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonshushushu/pseuds/wonshushushu
Summary: Six months, one hundred-eighty three days - but who's counting, anyway?





	Between the One Eighty-Three

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bonnieanonnie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonnieanonnie/gifts).

The days seemed to be getting shorter recently; Jeonghan couldn't place a finger on why.

He suspected that after Seungcheol left, his days would only get longer, the absence of his lover a persistent reminder of how lonely his life before him had been.Rather than his life dragging on, it seemed to have only sped up. It was possible that the transition from fall to winter was playing tricks on his perception of time, but the sun was rising and falling within mere hours.

Jeonghan has never been the type to believe in sayings such as 'you don't know what you have until it's gone,' but he was inclined to give thought to it now. After all, there was a reason things that that were said in the first place.

He grabs his favourite mug which sat atop the shelf beside Seungcheol's. 

_"I'm__ n__ot going to need it, love, it'll only take up extra space in my bag." _Seungcheol had said when Jeonghan was caught trying to pack it in his suitcase. Remembering that now only reminded him that he, too, had been left behind. To be a favourite cup left at home is not to be a boyfriend forced to stay, but in this instance of feign abandonment, Jeonghan has never seen such resemblance staring at him through his distorted reflection in the circular bottom of the mug. 

Maybe he was being dramatic. They hadn't broken up. According to Seungcheol, doing long distance while he was away on what he had termed _'a business trip'_ would be manageable. 

Jeonghan thought is was cruel to frame the act of moving to another country for six months as a mere 'trip,' and he had never been one to believe in the effectiveness of long distance relationships. Still, he agreed to it. What was he to do other than comply? He's in love with his own torturer. Stockholm Syndrome of the most devilish kind; he's trapped in his own heart.

After filling up his match-of-a-mug with boiled water, he begins to steep a portion of tea. He doesn't bother to notice the kind, anything will do. He thinks he ought to down the whole thing before it cools and end his suffering there, but he huffs at the thought of melting from the inside out and heads the other direction. A shuffle is all he can manage as he makes his way to the couch, sinking into the inviting plush fabric. He allows the cushions to consume him; make him feel small. 

It's been too long since he's allowed himself to feel vulnerable. It always leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, so he tends to avoid situations that place him in such a state. The airport, he thinks, is the last time he cracked. Following his mental lecture, advising himself not to cry when he saw Seungcheol head towards the gate and _far_ away from him, only to spend the next half hour locked in a bathroom stall. He'd listened to the flight announcements and passengers coming and going while he ruined his best cable-knit with salty tears and snot.

The TV in front of him clicks on, speaking about some recent renovations made to a national park, showing joyful people enjoying the new additions. It's a mockingly pleasant sight, and in a moment of weakness, Jeonghan grants himself permission to feel.

He meets familiarity, three distinct figures looming in the back of his mind. 

The first is always sorrow.

An ache that points out he's only 41 days in; stabbing mentions of his longing to touch the one he loves, to hold him and have him take his sorrow away. He wonders if the pain would feel so intense if he could only pick up the phone and hear his voice.

_"There won't be any service up there, Angel, but I'll call you whenever I can get into town."_ He said. _Bullshit_, Jeonghan thought. 

The second that finds him is anger, one of Jeonghan's personal favourites. If not for the one that follows, Jeonghan might let himself feel more often.

Anger within Jeonghan is fiery. It's a red hot pleasure that starts from his stomach and boils up til his ears, stinging his insides with spite toward someone he feels nothing but light, airy euphoria toward, usually. 

Jeonghan never thought his lover was stupid, but the only sensible reason he could think of that he hadn't yet received a call was from pure idiocracy. Otherwise, he'd been buried alive in an avalanche, never to be heard from again. Jeonghan was on the fence on which reason he would prefer for Seungcheol's negligence.

There wasn't a single day out of 41 Seungcheol hadn't been on his mind, and Jeonghan predicts that will ring true for all 142 that remain, but what could be said for his other half? 

Did Seungcheol think of him every waking hour? Did he see him in his dreams? Did he even realize that Jeonghan wasn't there with him? Beneath the snowy mountains of Northern Japan, what more could there be to think about? 

How could Seungcheol be fine with not knowing the next time he will be able to speak with his boyfriend? How could he leave him behind? How could he let Jeonghan be alone?

How could he?

_How could he?_

Jeonghan often wondered if Seungcheol, too, felt his days shortening, or if he was feeling them slow with each new experience he encounters, _without him._

The worst part of feeling takes shape too quickly. When red fades to grey, abandonment flows into the room, uninvited and heavy. It suffocates him; the sensation of being wrapped too tightly in his own emotions. It's what makes him think of when he'd offered to come along with Seungcheol, and how quickly he'd been shot down.

As if it should have been obvious, that Jeonghan was foolish in asking. It shamed him for thinking it was an option, for being serious at all. He'd already asked his boss for the time off, but Seungcheol would never know about that. 

Seungcheol would go, on his own, and Jeonghan would stay here, making company with the three he rarely lets near him. 

He picks himself off the couch, trudging over to his tea that's been sitting on the counter. The liquid inside has been over-steeped, and Jeonghan loathes watching it flow down the drain of the kitchen sink. 

The sun has already set. The day, yet again, flashed by unbenounced to him. Jeonghan hadn't realized how much time he'd spent reflecting; brooding. His cheeks hadn't felt wet until now.

He was tired and he wanted to sleep. It's the only thing that lets him have illusions of peace and order.

He drags himself to the couch again, a blanket in hand - recently he can't bear to sleep in his and Seungcheol's bedroom, the absence mocks him and keeps him up all night. Jeonghan plops down, shutting his eyes to listen to the background noise. Cars passing quietly outside, a few sirens in the distance, the television reporting about a rise in gas prices, and the arrogant drip in the bathroom faucet Seungcheol had promised months ago he would fix. They meld together in a grim lullaby he listens to as he lays his head down, pulling the blanket around his small form.

Jeonghan falls asleep easy that evening, not dreaming of anything of substance.

The buzzing of his cell phone is lost to him, in his slumbering state. He doesn't get to read the name that shines on his screen.

_Choi Idiot_

He will, of course, insist that Seungcheol is to blame for the missed call. It's only fair.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!~ Feedback always appreciated, and find me on my twitter too: [@wonshushushu!](https://twitter.com/wonshushushu)  
-ji


End file.
